


L’Appel du Vide

by Omnibee13



Series: Brothers In The Dark [4]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Arrogant Bitch Vergil, Bruh will I ever stop hurting my boy Vergil? No, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, More tags will be added latter I guess lol, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Original Character is Nero's Mother (Devil May Cry), Prologue, Prostitution, Sexual Content, soft Vergil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibee13/pseuds/Omnibee13
Summary: He was only meant to be in Fortuna a few days.. Instead, he stayed more than a week, wrapped up in the sweet words and soft touches of a courtesan. His guard down, he’d soon experience a unique and bitter pain ..
Relationships: Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Brothers In The Dark [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038610
Comments: 18
Kudos: 34





	1. Courtisane

**Author's Note:**

> I just like to hurt Vergil at this point, I guess.  
> I have no idea where this came from, but once it's finished, everyone will understand pretty succintly why Vergil is less than enthused about discussing who Nero's mother is, or, rather... was.  
> Oh, and a word to the wise, there will be graphic descriptions of heterosexual intercourse. If that squicks you out, I apologize, and I suggest you turn back now.

**Fortuna.. 25 years ago..**

She’d been following Vergil all morning. Now, late into the afternoon, and much to his annoyance, _she_ was in his peripheral yet again. At first he had rationalized that, well, Fortuna was not very large, so seeing the same person a few times would not be too strange. However, to always turn around, to glance about, to scan the area as a matter of precaution, and to see her, was a clear indication to Vergil that he was being followed. 

The people on Fortuna were a decidedly queer folk. Prone to whispers and distrust of strangers. The cult activity there was what drew Vergil to the island in the first place, and he assumed, being an outsider, he could do his research without being bothered. It was all part of his plan. Dante was going by Dante again not “Tony Redgrave,” and soon enough, Vergil would have enough information on one of their father’s most brilliant achievements to put his ultimate plan in motion. All he needed to do was find out what exactly was going on in Fortuna, and what all, exactly, did this cult know about Sparda and the time before he wed the human Eva. 

By and large, the Forunites had been giving him the expected wide berth, but Vergil kept seeing the woman in the red dress, just lurking on the outskirts of wherever he was, again and again. While other locals would actively try to avert their eyes and not meet Vergil’s gaze, this woman seemed to crane to get a better look at him. It was unnerving and Vergil liked to think of himself as someone that was not easily shaken. After all, he was 18 and brilliant, the best swordsman who ever walked, and the Heir to the Legacy of the Black Knight, Sparda. No mere human woman was going to unnerve him, not on an island where Sparda once – allegedly – ruled as feudal lord, and certainly not one where a cult that worshiped his father as a god lived. 

Growing deeply tired with her antics, Vergil decided to put a definitive end to it. She was a distraction, and she was growing irksome. No one was going to stand in his way, leave of all the human woman of a cult.. 

Vergil slipped into an alley, looking left and right before ducking into it. 

As predicted, the woman soon appeared in the mouth of the alley, and looked apprehensive. Slowly, though, she followed. The alley ended in a dead-end, and the tall buildings on either side had a criss-crossing of laundry lines, loaded down with clothes, that gave the alley a dim, over-cast look. As she advanced, she held her hands clasped close to her chest. She was frightened, her entire body-language conveying how uncomfortable she was, yet she continued to move deeper, almost coming to the very end of the alley, looking around still, wondering where he had disappeared to.

She gasped, a high, desperate sound, when Vergil pressed the tip of his sword to her back and pushed. 

“You’re going to stop following me,” he whispered, in the dim light. 

“Please,” she whispered back, hands up. “Please, I only –”

“Quiet,” he commanded, pressing harder. If he wanted to, he could spear her through. “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you following me?”

She swallowed, Vergil heard her throat clicked. 

“Please,” she said, again. “Please, m’lord, I only wanted to see –”

“See what?” He demanded. He had a niggling feeling that this woman was a spy from the cult, perhaps someone had seen him kill the demons earlier upon his arrival and now sought something from him. Vergil was, after all, the only Son of Sparda actually _worth_ anything. 

“See if I could be some use to you,” she said, her tone shifting just ever so slightly. 

Vergil scoffed, not kindly.

“What use would I possibly have of – ”

She took a step forward and why Vergil didn’t kill her then and there, he had no idea. Perhaps he was momentarily disarmed by her sheer bravery. Though, as he watched, her hands did shake, slightly, as she turned and faced him, and as she reached up and carefully removed her white apostles’ hood. 

She was probably his age, perhaps a little older. Fair of face – as far as human’s went – with a slightly upturned kitten’s nose, large honest honey-brown eyes, and red-gold hair, tied into a demure knot at the base of her neck, the rest of it braided roughly and held over her shoulder. Vergil had tried to glare at her beneath his own cowl, but as he scanned her face, he paused on her lips and found himself interested, even if he’d not admit it to her, in what she was expecting to provide to him.

.. In the years to come, Vergil would chalk up his hesitation in the face of her as youthful inexperience. During his brief stint as Gilver, he had watched with a jealousy and disdain that he’d _never_ admit out loud, as “Tony” had a different companion almost every other night. Girls liked “Tony,” he came to realize, bitterly. “Tony” was roguish, and handsome, and just vulgar enough to be exciting. “Tony,” who could stroll into the bar with an arm around a girl on either side of him, and even after he didn’t call them, or even so much as look at them as more than just a – what had he called it? A “casual lay?” – they’d still come back if he smiled at them or bought them a drink. 

No one did that for Gilver. No one did it for Vergil, either, but that was beside the point. Wrapped head to toe in bandages or not, what on earth did “Tony” have that he didn’t? Was it that easy to charm someone? Or was love just not real, as he was coming to suspect?

But all those feelings were brought to the surface in seeing the way that the woman looked at him. 

There was sincerity in those eyes. And a kind of butter-soft _desire_ that made him feel strangely young in the face of it. 

“I could be of some comfort to you,” she whispered, and the honesty in her eyes made him believe her. “I don’t have much.. but it is a skill I can put to some use, even here. Even now.”

Vergil frowned, catching her drift.

“You’re a whore.” He stated, plainly. He kept Yamato outstretched between them, as if the unarmed woman was an actual threat. He saw that the accusation hurt her, just a little, the way her eyes seemed to shift, to look down at her feet. 

“I’m a courtesan,” she attempted, but he scoffed at her. 

“And I’m to believe that whores just routinely seek people out? People are meant to come to you, not the other way around.”

“You seem saddened,” she said, boldly. “And I only meant to be of some service.” She swallowed and licked her lips, an action that, Vergil was ashamed to admit, did set some nerves aflame. He had no idea why. _Curse this human heritage.. They get aroused over the most foolish, asinine things.._ “I could be of some comfort to you. You’re handsome. And young. Better than most here.. And, should you go looking for it, you’ll not find any others. Not like me.” She seemed to tilt her chin, then defiant. “Or, if you really mean to kill me, fine. Do it so I don’t have to starve to death or be outcast into the wilderness for the Sake of Fortuna’s false virtue.”

Vergil felt warm around his neck and he wasn’t sure why. She was beautiful, that much was true, and he was .. lonely. 

“How do I know this isn’t some trap?” He demanded. “What do you mean, starve to death?”

“You’re in Fortuna,” she replied. “The Order has grown more powerful in these past few decades, since Father Sanctus claims he foresaw the death of .. ” She seemed to falter. “I shouldn’t say much more, m’lord. I have enough of a target on my back, from being what I am, for being born into the life I have. Powerless and alone, only able to make some semblance of a life by doing as women have done for a millennia, when foolish men believe themselves to know the will of God.”

“For a whore,” Vergil said, conversationally, as he sheathed Yamato. “You are well spoken.”

“I have a name,” she said, soft, but defiant. 

“I don’t care,” he replied, flippant and aloof. He happened to look back into those honey colored eyes again and regretted it, looking away as if running from the hope that welled within them.

“You do,” she whispered. “Else, you’d have killed me by now.”

“Don’t presume to know me or anything about me,” he snapped. 

But she didn’t flinch. 

And Vergil was starting to talk himself into, perhaps, spending the night with her. It was unsavory, he was certain Mother wouldn’t appr—

 _Mother was dead._

He was an adult, he could do what he pleased, and if Mother was so concerned, perhaps she’d have done more to find and protect him, rather than just get herself massacred while protecting her precious, mewling baby Dante.

“Tony” had spoken about frequenting prostitutes. He had gotten drunk and tried to give Gilver pointers, needless this-and-that about how to pick “a good one.” One that was young and nubile was less likely to have yet picked up a pox, though they may be more expensive. Though, money wasn’t really an obstacle. Besides, she was a courtesan on Fortuna, what on earth kind of price tag could she even call for?

“Very well, whore,” he said, sounding as arrogant as he believed he had a right to be. “But afterwards, you’ll leave me alone. Understand? I’m not here to waste my time with the likes of you.”

.. A part of Vergil, very small, and very young, felt bad about how well the woman took his insults. She must have had her fair share of them in the past and that was mildly upsetting to know. He did his best to quash those feelings as best he could. They were rooted in human sympathy and weakness, anyway.

The woman wordlessly pulled her hood back up, tucking red hair under the cowl. Vergil wondered if she was trying to appear unbothered by his insults, now, as she walked past him, straight backed and square shoulders.

“You’ll need to follow me,” she said, softly. “So as we don’t raise the suspicions of any of the Order’s watchmen.”

Now, as he followed her more than a dozen paces back, Vergil was starting to fear that he had been duped somehow. What if this was a cruel joke? He had been on the receiving end of too many of those to not be wary of the possibility. 

But the woman seemed to move with a purpose now, glancing back only every so often to ensure he was still behind her. Vergil had seen some of the Order watchmen she spoke of; they looked like zealous brutes with primitive swords, and they all wore the same white and gold tunic, emblazoned with a sword-like sigil. He had to sneer at them, from under his cloak, as he watched them skulk about, checking for any sign of trouble.

 _Shows what these idiots know,_ he thought to himself, as he followed the woman to a more residential area, the streets becoming narrower and the pavement less impressive. _Father hated white and gold.._ No doubt the cult picked the colors for their implied purity. 

The woman lived in a poor district, he decided. Likely the lower working class people on the island could say the same. She slipped into an alleyway again, and Vergil felt strongly he was stepping into a trap. One hand on Yamato’s hilt, he followed her, wondering if all this walking and sneaking was normal for people who frequented prostitutes. Humanity was needlessly complicated, he had long ago decided, and astoundingly stupid. 

In the dark of the alley, with the sun starting to dip, he scanned, looking for her, and found her near a dilapidated wooden staircase that seemed to act as a fire-escape up to a third story window. 

_I’m going to sneak through a window to visit a whore,_ Vergil thought, dryly. _Whoever is in charge of my fate and the humor therein is a cunt._

“It has to be this way,” she whispered, pausing on the steps, looking back at him. “Should anyone know, I’d be cast out. But no one comes this way.. The stairs are too rickety.”

_I’m going to fall through rotted wooden stairs, while trying to sneak through a window to visit a whore.._

“If this ends up being some kind of trap,” he hissed, following her all the same. “They’ll not find all of you.. Or all of whoever you’re leading me to.”

She chuckled.

Vergil bristled.

A whore was going to laugh at him? Really?

“You’re very mistrusting,” she remarked, softly. “I can’t imagine what you must’ve been through to be so sour.”

Apparently, the window was her normal method of entrance and egress, as there was nothing in front of, nor beside it, inside the small flat that the whore called home. Vergil’s eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, and to his surprise, no one else was inside. Just a simple, human home, for a simple, human woman. It was essentially just one large room, though Vergil assumed there was a restroom tucked away _somewhere_.. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if there wasn’t and he wasn’t sure why. 

The woman was already moving about the flat, lighting candles as she moved. He hadn’t seen her remove her apostle’s hood, but it was discarded, allowing the light to glint off her hair, and reflect in her eyes. Other than that, she was covered and modestly dressed, the dress, despite being red, was almost puritan looking. Vergil wondered, going off of what she was saying about the cult’s dislike of prostitution, if the red color somehow meant something. 

He cleared his throat and reached into his cloak, pulling out a leather poach. 

“How much do you cost?” He asked, trying his best to sound disinterested and aloof. She looked at him, from the bed. She was already seated on it, working on the laces of her high brown boots. 

“Money is not exchanged until afterwards,” she replied, frankly. Vergil frowned. 

“That seems backwards,” he remarked, watching as she reached behind herself, pulling at the laces of her bodice. 

“Do you frequent many courtesans, m’lord?” She asked, smiling in a way that made Vergil feel very strange. He bristled.

“I don’t,” he said, though he quickly followed with, “I don’t need to.” That felt like it needed to be said. The woman had taken her bodice off now, threw it aside. She wore an under-blouse, now, and her long skirt, but she didn’t continue to disrobe, sitting back on her hands, regarding him with a curiosity that bordered on innocent. Or, as innocent as a whore could appear. 

“I imagine gentleladies and noble virgins throw themselves at you, m’lord,” she said, softly, watching him. Vergil was still wearing his traveling cloak, and beneath it, he was fully clothed, but the way her honey colored eyes went up and down his body. “But here in Fortuna, we live lives a little different. Even when we had more than a handful of courtesans living here, we could never be the type to demand someone pay us upfront. However much you feel I’m worth, you’ll leave on the nightstand. Just like all the others..”

Vergil’s exterior remained icy and cool, but inside, he was unsure how to proceed. He’d never been with a woman, not that he’d ever utter the words out loud. He knew how it worked, of course, he was no fool, but he was uncertain as to how one would judge a sexual experience, let alone priced it appropriately. Could it be that women had the ability to tell if a man was a virgin and used this tactic to fleece them, separate some poor idiot from his money?

The woman sat up, leaned forward and rested her elbows on her legs, hands clasped together as she tilted her head at him. 

“.. We don’t need to do that,” she offered, gently. “If .. you’re unsure?”

Vergil bristled again. 

“So you just led me here with the promise of services, wasting my time, just to back out and blame me?” He demanded, hoping to assert some kind of authority. 

“I could still give you comfort, m’lord,” she purred, starting to undo the rough braid she held her hair in. She glanced at him, coyly, before going back to her work. Something about a woman’s long, loose hair did _things_ to Vergil. He had known since he was an adolescent, and some part of him worried it was because his mother was a famous beauty with long, blonde hair.. He swallowed and, summoning what confidence he had, he strode forward with a purpose.

“Nonsense,” he said, firmly. “We’ll settle this transaction and then I can be on my way without having you following me everywhere I go.” That’s all this was, a transaction. He took, she gave, and the added benefit was, she’d leave him alone. He could continue his research, unbothered. Ultimately, that was his goal and no one, not “Tony,” not time, and not some whore, would get in his way. 

Vergil pulled off his traveling cloak and was mildly flattered with how the woman’s eyes widened at getting a solid look at him. He started to pull off his coat, as well, but paused when the woman stood up. 

“Let me,” she whispered, boldly coming within his circle. She smelled like soap and wildflowers, and Vergil was put off just enough by her gumption that he paused. 

He hadn’t realized how touch starved he was until he felt her fingertips run along the bare skin of his shoulders. His skin immediately prickled with goosebumps and he almost physically shivered, and it was hard to keep his expression disinterested and neutral. She was _small_ , a very dainty woman, and she only came to about his shoulder, if not a little lower. And she was making his heart pound. 

Trying to maintain control, Vergil took her wrists, as her hands tried to ease his coat off his shoulders. 

“.. I can undress myself,” he said, softly, lacking the edge he wished to summon. 

“Of course,” she said, tilting her head as she looked up at him. She stepped back, and Vergil found some part of his core wishing he wasn’t such an absolutely ass and that she’d come back. “I’ll wait for you, then, m’lord.” The woman grabbed the hem of her under-blouse and lifted, pulling it up. 

Vergil turned, unsure if it was because he wanted to give the woman some privacy or if he was too shy to see her naked just yet. Cursing his human nature for the millionth time in his life, he cleared his throat, and continued to shrug off his coat. This random woman had forced him to turn his back on her, which was stupid; you never turned your back on a potential threat. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked, surprised that he even said anything. 

“Why I get undressed, m’lord?”

Her flat, Vergil decided, was terrible. There was no ventilation. What else could explain why Vergil’s face felt so hot.

“Call me “lord?”” He asked, starting to unbutton his vest.

“Are you not?” She said, as Vergil heard the flutter of fabric hit the floor. 

_She thinks I’m a lord?_

…

_Well OF COURSE she thinks you’re a lord, you basically are one, fool!_

Vergil was also realizing, as he pulled his scarf from around his neck, that there was no conventionally “sexy” way for men to undress when they wore what he usually wore. He was doomed to appear awkward and asinine. 

“I am,” he attempted, hoping he sounded confident to her ears, if not his. He glanced over his shoulder and looked again. 

Vergil had seen the naked human form before. Some may say, you see one, you’ve seen them all. But humans were unique, in that all looked slightly different and the possibilities were endless. Most of his exposure to, well, “exposure” was all in the sphere of art, sculptures and paintings. Of course, in being in close proximity to “Tony” for even as little time as he had, he did see his fair share of truly unrealistic pornography magazines. Even so, he was .. more than a little under-prepared to see the woman standing before him, utterly naked. 

Everything seemed very .. firm. Vergil was unsure what or where to look at, which would be most polite or which would convey that he was in fact in charge and her womanly attributes weren’t going to sway him one way or the other. She had moved her hair so that it covered the tops of her breasts in some semblance of modesty, but that just meant that it was obvious when Vergil stared at them. Her belly was flat and her hips had a gentle widening to them that looked _great_ in a kind of primal way. In the V of her pelvis, a kind of bundle of red-gold hair rested there and Vergil, shamefully, found himself glancing at it before going back to her face .. and back again. 

The woman held her arms out, slightly as if beckoning him forward for an embrace, and Vergil almost wanted to run into that embrace, but he was faltered by his own pride. 

“Do I please you, m’lord?” She said, softly and Vergil had to swallow hard to keep his more base instincts in check.

“You’ll do,” he said, cooly. And, for a reason not quite known even to himself, he licked his lips and spoke again, “My name’s Vergil.”

She smiled then, and there was something deeply endearing in those deep honey-colored eyes of hers. 

“I’m Claudia..”


	2. La Lune de Miel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was the one acting as though she was fully clothed, and Vergil was the one that felt naked, and that just didn’t seem fair..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omni "Trashy Harlequin Romance Novel" Bee, reporting for duty.  
> Vergil, you soft man baby, you just want to be loved but you can't make that happen if you're insistant on being an arrogant ARROGANT bitch..

She had a way of saying her name that was unique to Vergil’s ears. He had heard it pronounced that way before, but to hear it coming from a beautiful, naked woman living in the midst of a cult-controlled island was very different. The way she moved her mouth to say it, the way it sounded coming from her lips, all of it fascinated him and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Her name was both common and strange, domestic yet foreign. Clow-dia, not Claudia. Courtesan, not whore.. 

Vergil was thinking about this as he was certainly _not_ struggling to unclasp and pull off his boots. He had sat on the edge of Claudia’s bed, while the woman lounged behind him. She was far too comfortable being totally nude with a stranger, and this just made him feel more awkward. She was the one acting as though she was fully clothed, and Vergil was the one that felt naked, and that just didn’t seem fair. Nor did it seem fair that he was suddenly finding it very hard to get his boots off. 

“Are you nervous?” She asked, reaching out and touching the bare skin between his shoulder blades. Still coming to terms with how touch starved he was, Vergil frowned and shifted away from her. 

“No,” he lied. “I laced these too tightly.” That sounded stupid even to his own ears; his boots didn’t _have_ laces, and if Claudia had eyes, she’d have seen that. If she caught his fumble, she didn’t say anything. Once he got them off, he tossed them to the side. What he was going to do seemed very real now and he was unsure why it seemed so much more impactful than he thought it should be. Vergil was going to have sex. It may be sex he paid for but, that suited him just fine. He could pay for affection without ever having to worry about being later hurt by it. What a concept. Besides, he was certain that “Tony” had done this very act countless times and made it seem like it was no big deal. So it wasn’t. Immature and juvenile as it was, Vergil’s concept of “anything he can do, I can do better” was one thing that survived the blaze that consumed their family home and mother, and he’d not let it die anytime soon. 

Vergil glanced at her. She was laying on her side, propped up on an elbow, head in her hand. There was something overtly sexual about this woman, and the easy way she seemed to flow across the so-so sheets on her bed. Perhaps this was just because this was the first nude woman he’d ever been within grabbing distance, but Vergil wanted her. _Wanted_. He had these feelings before, every boy – Man. _Man_ , not boy – had those feelings, he knew. It was totally natural, totally expectable, and yet, even if he had what he wanted right in front of him, he had no idea what to do with it. Perhaps Claudia sensed this, as she sat up straighter.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” She asked, and her bluntness made him bristle. 

“Yes,” he snapped, hoping the sharpness of his tone would hide the lie. The way Claudia hummed and once again decided to touch him, this time along his back and up to his shoulders, sending a shiver up his spine. 

“You’re bashful,” she said, her tone feather-light, not unlike her touch. “It’s very sweet.”

“I am not,” he protested, frowning deeply.. but he didn’t push her way or move outside of her touch. 

“I’m nothing to be scared of,” she assured him, moving to kneel now. Both of her hands were on his shoulders, and she boldly pressed her breasts and belly to his back. 

“I’m not scared of you,” he said, and that was actually the truth. Yamato was propped up against the wall, resting and waiting for her wielder to need her, should he actually have use for her. 

“We can do just about whatever you want,” Claudia whispered, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. That tickled and Vergil visibly shuddered, before clearing his throat. The giggle that Claudia made then, as she wrapped her arms around his chest, embracing him like a real lover .. Vergil felt like was slipping. He hadn’t even touched her yet, but the woman was so frightfully charming, even for a courtesan, that he felt totally disarmed. 

_Oh no.._ he thought, swallowing hard as he allowed himself a moment to just breathe, close his eyes, and enjoy the warmth coming from someone else. _Oh no._ He shivered again, allowing himself to reach up and just barely touch one of her wrists. 

_This felt nice._

Even admitting it in his mind made him feel weak. But only because he so strictly had tried for years to drown out any semblance of humanity he had left. Human beings could get hurt, human beings could die, human beings delighted in hurting each other for no reason; sometimes in the pursuit of power, he supposed, but they could never keep it, once they got it. So they ended up hurting all those people just for a power they couldn’t hold on to, making it all for nothing. 

Claudia was kissing him now, along his jaw, down his neck. He was hard, and normally, had he felt this way, alone, he’d just .. roll over and take care of it himself. But Claudia was here and it was expected that she be used for such a thing. Now, that simple action, done normally just before falling into a deep sleep, seemed incredibly uncouth. What was he supposed to do? 

“We can just do this,” she was whispering, sensing his apprehension. “Does this not please you, Vergil?”

Something about the sincere softness of her voice put Vergil one edge, and he swallowed, pulling away from her. He went to stand and gave serious consideration to leaving and saving himself any humiliation his inexperience might cause him. Although, better sense won out, because, he reasoned, if he left every time he almost – _what did “Tony” call it? “Seal the deal?”_ – then he’d never actually achieve anything, on this front. 

So, instead, Vergil just focused his iron will and boundless pride into the action of taking his pants off. Men, he decided, were far less impressive when naked. Was he impressive, at all, in this state? If Vergil had his way about it, he’d shed this body altogether, and adopt a form similar to his father’s true form, and his father’s true nature. Something more intimidating than pink flesh.

_All in good time.._

He turned and looked at her and he just knew he wasn’t exactly commanding like this. He was certain he’d _feel_ more powerful if he had Yamato in his hands, but to attempt intercourse with a sword in one’s hand seemed asinine. Besides, he wanted to appear confident and powerful, and he could do that with Yamato, or without it. When he reigned Hell, he wouldn’t need to have her in his hand all the time. 

Speaking of putting something in his hands, Claudia was sitting up on her knees, and she reached for him. Why he allowed himself to be drawn forward was beyond him, but he wasn’t disappointed, as she brought his hands forward to cup her breasts. They were soft, heavy, and wholly different than what he had at first expected them to feel like. Absently, Vergil ran his thumbs over the blush-pink nipples, and heard Claudia inhale softly, and shudder deeply.

“You have done this before,” she purred, and even if she was lying to him, or saying it only to butter him up, Vergil was all to willing to accept it. 

They found themselves facing each other in bed. Claudia wasn’t lying when she implied she’d be pliant and deferential to him. If Vergil moved one way, she’d move in a complimentary way. She kissed him on the mouth, after running her hands over his chest and stomach, as though feeling him out first. 

Vergil did his best to reciprocate, but he felt clumsy, all the same. 

“Like this,” she whispered, gently, before kissing him again. Let it not be said he wasn’t a quick learner, mimicking the movements of her lips and chasing her kiss with his own, eyes closed and pressing her skin to his. 

If that was all they ended up doing, Vergil would likely be happy with it, as foreign a concept as “happy” was to him, even. Claudia was a warm, soft weight in his arms, and she was receptive to him and he was certainly receptive to her. Win/win and no awkwardness out of perhaps being unnecessarily nude. He could live with that. He could be content with that. 

But then Claudia extracted herself from his embrace, sitting up on her side and placing a slim hand flat on his chest. Could she feel his heart beat within? Vergil wasn’t unsure. He just watched her through the haze of hormones and desire. She pushed, gently, so he ended up on his back. He was confused, certainly, when she shifted, pushed one of his knees so it folded and he lay in a rather .. well .. vulgar position. He almost asked what she was up to, positioning herself between his legs, until any semblance of a voice in his throat and a thought in his head dried up in the face of Claudia’s warm, wet mouth around his sex. 

He gasped, soft and breathy, laying back. His eyes were shut tight, because watching her do this act – filthy, carnal, base, wonderful, toe-curling, sublime – seemed awkward. So Vergil just kept his eyes closed and his head back and focused on his breathing and what Claudia’s mouth was doing. A part of his mind wandered, as he breathed, deeply and open-mouthed. Was this what lovers did, or was this just what prostitutes and courtesans did? The acts that a wife would never deign to do? Or was this something intimate that was shared by two people? Was there a way he could reciprocate? Did other people worry about paying back their courtesans in something other than money?

Vergil moaned, the noise rumbling in his chest, when he felt Claudia bury her nose into the white curls at the base, the strange sensation of her throat squeezing around the head chasing tingles up his spine. His hands balled in the sheets, wave after wave hitting him and he was concerned that this would be what would finish him. Jesus, was even that normal? 

His member was suddenly cool, when Claudia lifted her head, removing her mouth from around it, and looked up at him, one hand lazily pumping it now from base to tip. 

“What do you want now?” She whispered, sweetly. He sat up, one hand coming to her face as she had to sit up as well. 

It was sinful, vulgar, but something was erotic about kissing her after what she just did. Still, Vergil was surprised by how enjoyable kissing was, so he didn’t mind. Claudia didn’t seem to mind either, kissing back with wild abandon, moving to knot her fingers in his hair. Why her nails felt so good scratching against his scalp was another mystery Vergil suddenly wanted to explore. He was relieved to know that some of what was happening was instinctual. Perhaps not as hard as one would have led him to expect, after all.

Claudia pushed him down, a glint in her eye that told Vergil in no uncertain terms she was better versed in this art than he was. He supposed that made sense; this was her job, after all. She threw one leg over him, their hips lined up. Absently, still watching her through half-lidded eyes and intoxicating hormones, Vergil began again to cup and squeeze at her breasts. Claudia made such wonderful sounds when he did so, which was bizarre to him; he could do something to her, and _he’d_ feel good in response. Was that how it was supposed to work? Who knew! All he knew or cared about was the way Claudia’s face seemed to soften, and how she’d whimper in response to him playing with her nipples. 

_This is obscene. I shouldn’t be doing this. I have other work that I need to do.._

Claudia bit her lip, in ecstasy, and took his right hand in hers, guiding it down, down.. 

Vergil swallowed again, as Claudia pressed her hand to her own warm sex. Her hands were smaller than his were, of course, but she could guide him as a teacher guided a student. It was frankly erotic to have his middle and ring fingers slip inside of that hot, slick purse, up to the knuckle. It was tight, and it would flex around his hand. Vergil shifted, moving them in and out ever so slightly, and delighted in Claudia’s response, the woman moving back and forth in time against him. She still guided him, encouraging his thumb to find the nub between her lower lips and to apply gentle, steady back and forth pressure. This sent Claudia into moans and, once she was certain Vergil could continue without her, she took her hands off his, and placed them on his chest, breathing hard as he worked.

“Tony” was a vulgar reprobate, but he’d never once regailed the other bounty-hunters at the bar with stories that half resembled this. Either he kept it a selfish secret, or – and this concept made Vergil positively _giddy_ \-- girls didn’t do this for “Tony.” 

Claudia raised herself up a bit, and used her right hand to hold his member again, and Vergil stilled. It occurred to him how vulnerable sex made two people. Hell, hadn’t he just had it in her mouth? What stopped her from biting the damn thing off? But be it the hormones or the warm between his thighs, Vergil didn’t exactly care. Especially when Claudia guided himself into herself, leaving Vergil arching his back up to get deeper. 

Now there was no thoughts. His ears were ringing, and all he could do is focus on the warmth and the tightness and how wet and slick it seemed. Claudia ground her hips against his, her head on her right shoulder, her mouth open, moaning as she moved. Vergil tried to roll his hips, to feel the friction that enveloped his sex entirely, but it was clumsy and less effective than, he assumed, if he was on top of her. He shifted, gathered up the wherewithal to move. Claudia let him, and they rolled, placing him on top. It was awkward, but in that moment, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

With Claudia on her back, Vergil could focus on first, getting some traction on the sheets, and secondly, to move his hips. This was instinctual, this was primal. The easy in and out and back and forth of his hips, the purely vulgar noises Claudia made with her mouth and her body made in response to his actions, it was all surprising second nature. Vergil was surprised how much stamina was necessary to perform this sex act with any respectable tempo. Faster felt better. It all felt good, but the quick movements made the friction race over his nerves in the most delicious way.

Vergil leaned forward, kissing at Claudia, ravenous and hungry, as he continued to thrust and she continued to moan. She’d raise his hips to meet him, at first, but eventually, and because either she was closer to climax than she thought or because Vergil set a punishing tempo, she lay there and moaned, an increasingly desperate and wonderful sound. She embraced him, her nails digging bloody lines down his back. 

The feeling was like a rubber band being wound, steadily tighter and tighter, in the lower-most part of his abdomen. Approaching climax was nearly as wonderful as finally coming, but when that peak finally happened, he gasped, bit his lip, and forced his hips to continue to move, the rhythm falling out of time and desperate. He milked his orgasm for all it was worth, and Claudia clenched around him, her back arching, her head back, eyes closed, and mouth open. 

Vergil collapsed on the other side of her, removing himself from her. He was tired, he realized, as he breathed deep, trying to catch it. Claudia curled toward him, resting her head on her folded arm. Vergil’s hair had fallen into his eyes, and she tenderly moved it aside to look at him properly. 

He had absolutely no idea what he was feeling in that moment. He’d lost his virginity, that was a big one, though he would never say as much to Claudia. What did one say after sex? “Good job?” “Thank you?” 

“Stay here, tonight,” she whispered. “It’s not safe to travel at night here. There are things out there..”

If Vergil wasn’t awash with unfamiliar _good_ feelings, he may have raised an eyebrow. May have even boasted about how whatever monsters lurked the streets of Fortuna, they were not so threatening as he. But instead, he just .. wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. 

_I’ll leave in the morning. Continue my work tomorrow.._

Claudia inhaled and exhaled deeply, cuddling closer to Vergil’s chest, and interrupted his famous concentration. And he allowed it.


	3. Peine d’Amour pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could stay here, like this, with her.. Or they could leave Fortuna, together. He could go someplace else, with her, and she’d be his Eva, and he’d never have to worry about Dante, or Sparda, or anything else.. He could do that, couldn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for all the decidedly rated R behavior in this chapter. I apologize even more for what Claudia does to Vergil in the end..  
> ...  
> ALSO:  
> WHY.  
> THE FUCK.  
> DID I MAKE THIS CHAPTER SO GD LONG?! I'm so sorry, St. Omni, Patron of Eye Strain has no editor and I'm just so sorry holy cow....

Vergil had intended to leave at dawn, leaving Claudia a few gold coins on her nightstand. He had hoped, that by the time she awoke and realized he was gone, he would already be to the temple, investigating what he could about the cult and what they may or may not have known about his father. That wasn’t what ended up happening, though, because Claudia had risen before him, leaving a gap in the bed beside him where her warm body had been. 

He hadn’t sat up straight away, upon hearing the sound of running water in a tiny alcove off of the open room that served as the main body of Claudia’s meager flat. Instead, Vergil opened one eye to look, head still on the pillow. 

Claudia, still nude, was standing in what amounted to a copper basin, a modest spigot from the wall allowing a weak flow of water. Her red hair was tied up in a messy knot, and she used a dark, natural sponge to dab her pale naked body. She was barely humming as she did so, and Vergil swallowed, thinking over what they did last night and how it made him feel. And why it made him feel anything. Wasn’t the frequenting of prostitutes supposed to be a transactional activity? He gave money, she gave sex, but there wasn’t supposed to be any feelings involved? So why was he feeling anything at all about the girl, this Claudia. 

_Clow-dia, not Claw-dia. Courtesan, not whore._

He inhaled softly, and shut his eyes. 

“You’re awake.”

Not soon enough.

He opened his eyes to look at her again, face neutral. She had seen him from the washroom, it seemed. She was wringing out her sponge, and seemed totally unabashed that he was watching her bathe at all. Nudity came so natural to her, and not at all in a vulgar way. He swallowed as he drank her in and felt that fire stirring between his legs once again. Perhaps it wasn’t wise, but Vergil found himself unable to look away, as she wet the sponge again and went back to dabbing her body. Claudia wasn’t shy, though perhaps that was expected from a whore.

_Courtesan,_ he corrected himself.

Vergil watched, while Claudia seemed to watch him, unashamed and very bold, as she washed herself. He was especially interested, when she put one foot on the edge of the copper basin, and let the sponge rub along her lower belly, wetting the nest of red curls between her legs. The combination of the cool air and luke warm water lent to her breasts being tight and perky, her nipples a blush-rose pink and pointed. Was this not how a woman looked _all_ the time? He pondered that, as Claudia washed herself, giving him a calm and casual look as she did so. 

Did she know what she did to him, behaving this way? Vergil was unsure. The only woman he had spent any significant amount of time around in the past 18 years had been his mother, and this was decidedly _not_ a way he felt about Eva. Actually, watching Claudia, Eva was the last woman he wanted to think about, and he made a point to vanish her from his mind. 

Vergil took a deep breath and went to sit up. He had to get going. He had to get back on track with his mission, with his purpose. He had to be single minded in his pursuit of power, or else, what was the point? It was his destiny, his fate. After “Tony,” Vergil swore to strike down anyone who got in the way of his goals. While Claudia appeared totally harmless, if she dared stand in his way, then he’d end her pretty little life as easily as he would one day end Dante’s.. 

Although, that thought seemed to vanish when Claudia smiled at him from the wash-alcove and stepped out of the basin. She pat herself dry with a thin white towel and pulled an equally thin, almost transparent, chemise from a hook on the wall. She moved very smoothly, walking towards the bed and pulling the chemise over her body. She came to the side of the bed, looked down at him, and offered him a small, pale hand. 

“Come,” she said, softly. “The water’s still warm, if my landlady hasn’t started her own washing.”

“I’m fine,” he said, ignoring her hand and going to sit upright. Sometime in the night, Claudia must have pulled the sheet over the pair of them, as it was bunched and gathered around his waist. “I had hoped to have been gone by now.”

“It can take a lot of you,” Claudia admitted, with a sigh, as she sat on the bed beside him. Her casualness made Vergil both deeply uncomfortable and strangely quite comfortable. He hoped to shed his youthful dichotomy someday, but perhaps the morning after finally knowing a woman in the carnal sense was not that day. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” he said, frankly, pulling the sheet off of himself and moving to get out of bed on the opposite side as Claudia. Vergil tried to play off the fact that he was naked and had a hard-on. If he didn’t look at Claudia, he couldn’t see her looking at him, and he wouldn’t be tempted to _aaaannnddd_ he looked. Claudia, to her credit, was shameless in her curiosity in the heat between his legs and looked at it with interest. Vergil cleared his throat, mostly to ground himself and went to stand. He had surreptitiously, pulled the sheet with him, and held it loose in one hand, covering his lap in what he _hoped_ resembled a Greco-Roman god.. Instead, he feared he just looked like he was trying to cover his decency. “I need to get going. What do I pay you?” 

Claudia’s lips seemed to pout, and she looked up at him, from her spot on the bed.

“Must you?” She asked, with an edge of want to her voice. Vergil’s face felt hot, though he kept it neutral. 

“Yes,” he said, hoping he sounded as firm as he hoped. _There. Now just say goodbye and don’t make it weird._ “You were enjoyable.” _You just made it weird.._ Vergil cleared his throat and started to scan the room for his clothes. He found most of them in a heap. “I had fun?” _Why is that a question?!_

Claudia remained kneeling on the bed, her head low.

“You don’t need to worry about payment, Vergil,” she said, softly, and Vergil, pulling on his underwear and pants, paused to look at her, surprised. “There’s a market, not far from here. We passed it, getting here.” Vergil remembered, but he frowned, unsure of where she was going. “I’ve no food. Rather than giving me money, could you get something for me?” 

“Why not go get it yourself?” He asked, wondering why she was trying to make him her errand boy, but also concerned by the fact she claimed she had no food. He had gone hungry, before, but not often. He found carbs and calories where he could, even when he lived primarily on the streets. 

Claudia gave him a frank look, one eyebrow cocked. 

“I’m a courtesan,” she deadpanned, right back at him. “I’m known to have been, and if the Order found out I was still entertaining men..” Claudia shook her head. “The guards can be rude. I’d rather not be hassled this early in the morning.” Vergil, still frowning, processed that. Why would a cult, devoted to a demon over-lord, be tying themselves in knots over some discreet sex work? Why would they be so hung up on issues of mere human morality? Surely that wasn’t something Sparda, the Dark Knight, had any qualms about? Moreso, what did these idiot human cultists intend to do with her, if Claudia was a courtesan? What did she mean, “hassled?” 

Against his better judgement, he agreed to these terms, though without saying as many words.

“Very well,” he sighed, moving to find his shirt, his scarf.. His coat lay in a heap, not far from where he had flung his boots. “Anything you want in particular?” _Why do you care?_

“Cheese,” Claudia said, maybe a little too eagerly. He huffed, and kept getting dressed. _The future Lord of All Hell,_ a nasty voice in his head sneered. _The errand boy for a whore who took his virginity~_ Vergil clamped down on those thoughts, hard, and he wasn’t quite sure why. “Bread. Maybe grapes.” Meager, for a diet. Was this all she subsisted on? Claudia paused and licked her lips, acting as if she was cautious. “If I pleased you, last night, and If Sabina has any roast chickens, I can make that last a little while.”

“Sabina?”

“The grocer’s wife.”

Vergil rolled his eyes, and, as he tied his scarf around his neck, tucking it into the front of his shirt, resigned himself that he was going to be repaying the courtesan that took his virginity with food. He reasoned he could keep these little details out of it, if he ever bragged about the tale to anyone. 

He couldn’t lie, as he ventured into the street from the alleyway that lead to Claudia’s flat, pulling his traveling cloak’s hood over his head. The temptation was there to leave and not return to her. What was stopping him, after all? Who’s fault would it be, to trust him to return? Although, he had to admit, coming to the grocer’s humble stall, the one they passed the day before on their way to her flat, that wasn’t very kingly. 

What happened next, he’d look back on with some bafflement. He had convinced himself that he had time. He had all the time in the world. Sabina was putting the things he asked for in a basket, not meeting his eyes, as he further decided, he really had a lot of time. Nothing concrete stood in his way, in his pursuit of information about Sparda, about his father. So, who’d really blame him for going back to Claudia’s flat, for more than just to deliver what he owed her. 

Claudia had dressed, though only a little more than before, in the time Vergil had left and returned. She didn’t look surprised to see him, though she did seem happy when she was able to look inside the basket. Vergil pulled the hood of his traveling cloak off, and he felt awkward watching her go through it. 

“Wine?” She asked, surprised, pulling a green, corked bottle from the basket. He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. It was unlabeled, probably half-vinegar, but in this part of Fortuna, Vergil figured it was quite fine indeed. 

“The woman didn’t make any fuss,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Claudia said, sounding shocked and genuine. She went to hug him, but stopped herself. That moment of awkwardness hung in the air, until Vergil broke it by removing his cloak. “Vergil?”

“You were right about the guards,” he lied. “The streets are crawling with them.” He hadn’t seen one. “I’m sure you have no objections with me waiting here? It’d rather not be hassled on the streets either.” Claudia blinked and tilted her head.

“Of course,” she said, softly. She took the basket from him, holding it in front of her. Standing toe to toe like this, Vergil was taken by how dainty she appeared. “Are you hungry? I’d like to share..” 

Vergil hummed his affirmative, but walked away from her.. Back to the bed. There was no other place to sit and, shamefully, a part of Vergil liked how the smell of sex hung in the air. Memories of that closeness he experienced with Claudia had plagued him since he woke up. Claudia watched him from where she stood, and made no moves to dig into the basket.

“.. Would you be displeased,” she began, almost shyly, and barely loud enough to be heard. “If I wanted to do more, with you?” Vergil swallowed. 

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I want to?”

“Do you?”

“I do.” 

The confession felt strange to his own ears, but Vergil didn’t fight it, and he certainly didn’t fight it when Claudia set the basket down, and hurried into his arms. He was shocked with how natural opening his arms to accept her felt, how good the weight and warmth was, and how eager his mouth was to meet hers. He was relieved that Claudia seemed to feel the same way, if her reciprocal kisses were anything to go by. 

Clothes, Vergil decided, as he fell back onto the bed, Claudia straddling his hips, were a cumbersome burden, especially the kind of clothes he found himself most interested in.

Over the course of the next few hours, the pair of them knew each other carnally, again and again. They broke, to eat, though not necessarily to dress. There was something simple and lovely about just .. making love in the middle of the day. Vergil could very easily see himself getting used to it, actually. 

“So what are you doing in Fortuna?” Claudia asked, licking her thumb, biting at a piece of chicken between her fingers. She was lounging at the foot of the bed, sheet over her waist, while Vergil was near the head of the bed, sitting crosslegged, the other edge of the sheet over his lap. 

He shrugged, biting a grape.

“Research,” he said, vaguely. He wasn’t sure how specific he should be with her. Would she understand, or believe him? She was no fan of the cult, and gradually, Vergil was becoming less impressed with them as well. 

“Do you come from someplace nice, on the mainland?” She asked, conversational. Vergil shrugged again, but didn’t answer right away.

“No,” he said, finally. 

“I had hoped that there was someplace nice,” Claudia said, laying back on her back, wistfully. “Someplace better than Fortuna.”

“That is more and more appearing to be a low bar,” Vergil said, raising an eyebrow. She giggled and looked at him. He certainly did like her face.. “If you dislike it here, on Fortuna, why not leave? Go to the mainland, start a life there?”

“I have nothing,” she admitted. “My parents died when I was six. I worked in a few homes, after I turned thirteen, and quit schooling. There’s no good jobs here. The rich stay rich, the poor grow thin.” She sighed and Vergil founded himself deeply disliking Fortuna. This wouldn’t have been what his father would have wanted. True, he didn’t understand his father’s adoration of humanity, Vergil could at least get behind that they didn’t need to be mistreated. “So, I did what a lot of women did: I put a mattress on my back, and for a while, no one really cared. Until Sanctus – ”

“You mentioned him before,” Vergil said, picking at a grape. 

“He is on his way to becoming the Most High,” Claudia said, looking at him. “And he’s outlawed most vices. He says it is to make sure we are a people that Lord Sparda would be proud of, when he returns.” Claudia shook her head, and Vergil found himself questioning things more and more. She rolled over onto her stomach. “And you?”

“And me?”

“What will you let me know about me?” Claudia asked.

“Let you?” Vergil scoffed.

“You’re so secretive,” she said, a light teasing tone to her voice. Vergil shrugged, hoping to eventually steer her away from this line of questioning. “You want me to guess?”

“No,” he said, honestly, but there was no edge to it. 

“You’re,” Claudia said, drawing the word out. “An orphan?” 

“I’m an adult, adults aren’t orphans,” he countered, frankly. “I’m just a man, with no parents.” Claudia hummed.

“You’re an only child?”

“I wish,” he grumbled, and Claudia giggled again. He was growing fond of that sound. She sat up on her elbows, tilting her head as she looked at him. 

“And before me,” she said, softly, “you were a virgin.” That wasn’t a question, but a statement. Vergil tried to summon a glare at her, but found he couldn’t, and he looked away from her. “You’re so shy.. It makes me wonder why you try so hard to appear not~”

“I’m neither shy, nor am I trying hard,” he objected. Though any hard feelings were replaced as Claudia moved to lay next to him. After a pause, he said, “How obvious was it?”

“That you were a virgin?”

“Yes.”

Claudia shrugged, smiling up at him. 

“You kiss like a virgin,” she admitted. “But you learn well enough. And you make love nicely, now. Perhaps you could become as good as me, one day~” 

She was charming, Vergil realized. And sweet, after a fashion. He leaned down and kissed her. Claudia kissed back. This action only set the pair of them off again, their bodies recovered enough from the last session. Vergil remembered shivering as Claudia ran her finger tips, ticklish and light, up the smooth skin of his back, not far from the now healed scratches she had given him the night before.

The cycle was blissful and lazy. For two more days, Vergil and Claudia did little outside of sleep, eat, and enthusiastically make love. Much later, Vergil would chalk it up to being absolutely drunk on hormones, but in that moment, he was just contented to be with a warm body that was content with him. There was something so special about kissing someone you knew wanted to be kissing you. Taken in by the romantic notion that, perhaps, he had found his Eva, Vergil almost didn’t notice his walls coming down, crumbling at Claudia’s feet. That, and, sex felt _great._ Perpetually cranky and bristly Vergil was finding that sex certainly helped his foul moods. 

Claudia would straddle him, he would straddle her. She scratched his back, hers arching in ecstasy, and he bruised her hips and buttocks, gripping her hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises there. On the third day, she broached the subject of trying something different and Vergil turned bright red when she exchanged that, what she had done to him, the first night they made love, with her mouth on his sex, was something he could reciprocate. It took some convincing, and some earnest coaching, but Vergil was able to forget his apprehensiveness in the name of decency when Claudia’s thighs were tight around his head, and her hands were pulling at his hair as she moaned and cried out, his mouth working enough that by the end, his jaw was sore..

Outside of having what amounted to pleasure on demand, life with Claudia was decidedly not kingly, was downright humble, which was foreign to him entirely. After a few chilly sponge-baths, one could almost get used to it. Sabina’s chicken was more than fine, when she had one to spare, and the grapes on Fortuna were sweet enough for him. Vergil found that he was starting to not mind simplicity. He could imagine, even, a life with her. 

He dreamt, only once, of walking with her, uncloaked, and certainly not in Fortuna. He was happy, Claudia’s belly was swollen and her eyes were filled with adoration for him, and for the fair-haired, precocious son he had on his hip.. 

He could stay here, like this, with her.. Or they could leave Fortuna, together. He could go someplace else, with her, and she’d be his Eva, and he’d never have to worry about Dante, or Sparda, or anything else.. He could do that, couldn’t he?

By the fifth day, Vergil had a clear enough head to remember why he was in Fortuna, however. He didn’t have to leave forever, he didn’t even have to leave for the whole day. But Vergil woke early, dressed early, and when Claudia stirred on the bed, he was comfortable enough in returning that he was surprised by the small panic that crossed her expression.

“Where are you going?” She asked, sitting up in bed. Vergil finished clasping his boots and stood, facing her. 

“I need to look into something, near the temple,” he said, softly, almost trying to soothe. “For my research. I won’t be gone long. I’ll be back by sunset, maybe a little later.” Claudia still looked worried and something in her shifted demeanor put Vergil on edge. He frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to the temple? Why?” 

“For my research..”

“Research into what?” She demanded and he was surprised. Normally she was far more deferential? “It’s not safe there. What if you’re seen?”

“I’ll be alright,” he assured her. “There’s nothing there that can hurt me. Not even that Sanctus fool.” Instead of being put at ease, Claudia seemed even more concerned. 

“No, please stay,” she said, shaking her head. He frowned again.

“I have to do this,” he said, firmly. “It’s just something I need to do. Why are you so nervous?” 

“Vergil,” Claudia said, clamoring out of bed and coming to stand in front of him, reached for and grabbed his hands. Vergil was surprised and put on edge. Something was wrong. “Please. Don’t go there.”

“What are you so frightened of?” He asked, deeply concerned, but then Claudia said something that made his blood run suddenly very cold.

“If you’re seen, they’ll know who you are.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” 

Claudia, perhaps realizing she had said too much, bowed her head, but kept Vergil’s hands in hers. They were trembling. Vergil didn’t want to let go. 

“They’ll know who you are and they’ll take you away from me,” she whispered. 

“What, exactly, do you think I am?” He demanded. Claudia shook her head and Vergil squeezed her hands. “Claudia?”

When she looked up at him, her eyes were full of tears. 

“You’re the son of Sparda.”


	4. Peine d’Amour pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _La lune trop pâle caresse l’opale de tres yeux blasé.. Pincesse de la rue soit la bienvenue dans mon coeur brisé…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna lie, you guys, I cried while writing this. BUT CONGRATS if you made it this far, because there is just this stake to the heart and then the epilogue …   
> F u c k…

Claudia’s flat was silent as a crypt, and as still as one, save for her hands trembling as they gripped his, and the sound of Vergil’s heartbeat pounding in his ears. His lover, for the past few days, was sniffling, looking up at him with watery eyes, clearly panicked over what she had to reveal. 

_You’re the son of Sparda._

Even though the words still rung in his ears, Vergil still found himself speaking as if he was an idiot.

“What did you say?” He whispered, shocked to have heard it at all. 

_She knew. She knows. She knows who Sparda is, who he really is, and who I am …_

He didn’t understand why the concept of that scared him so much, but it did, and Vergil was unaccustomed to feeling fear. He didn’t let go of Claudia’s small hands, but instead squeezed, hoping to ground himself, to maybe pinch himself to wake up..

“You’re one of Sparda’s lost sons,” Claudia said, moaning as she spoke, a bereaved, saddened sound. “I know, Vergil. I’m sorry.. But you can’t be caught by the Order, they’ll never let you leave, they’ll take you away from me – ”

Vergil wanted to both embrace her and cease her crying, but also to run from her, fast. 

“How?” He demanded, agony in his own voice. “How do you know that?”

“I was raised in the Order,” she admitted, sadly. “The sword.. Your hair.. You even look like the icons of him.. So I knew, immediately, and I .. “ Claudia licked her lips and looked up at him, desperation in her eyes as she let go of his hands to touch his face. “Don’t go to the temple yet. Please, please, Vergil, stay here with me.”

Something felt wrong. Claudia knew who he was, had figured it out, fine, but why was she so concerned with him not going to the temple yet? Yet. That was the word that stuck out for Vergil. 

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” He asked, letting her touch his face. He enjoyed the warmth of her hands, but it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety in his chest. 

“They’d worship you as a god and you’d forget all about me,” Claudia whined, putting her head in his chest. Vergil wrapped his arms around her and held her, but it felt differently. “You’ll leave me here like this and that’s why.. That’s why you can’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.” 

A part of Vergil longed to hush her, to soothe her. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, because something in her words made him anxious, concerned. 

“You knew, looking at me, that I was a son of Sparda,” he asked, taking her by the shoulders, moving her so that she would look at him. “How? Why?”

“The Order preaches it,” she said, tears falling in silence. “It is known, he took a wife, he had two sons, but when he disappeared into the void, so did his sons. And that his sons may still be alive, waiting to come back to us, to help us usher in a new world..”

Vergil felt sick. He wanted to move away from her, but instead, he just kept holding onto her as the pieces fell into place. 

“You sought me out,” he said, softly. “You followed me, to be sure I was who you thought I was.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know for sure, I swear it – ”

“But now you’re sure? How?”

“After our first itme,” she whimpered. “The sword. Your back..”

Claudia had scratched cuts into his back in the throes of passion, and Vergil knew, they had healed by the morning. 

“Why? Why did you pursue me like this? Convince me to stay, keep me here with you, for days?” Vergil asked, squeezing her arms. 

“Vergil,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”

He let her go as if she burned him, running one hand through his hair. 

Claudia reached for him, but Vergil didn’t reach back. 

“I just .. I wanted a better life,” she whispered, her shoulder shaking as she dissolved into sobs. “But then I came to know you, please, you have to believe me.”

“You used me,” Vergil said, flatly. He shook his head. “That’s why you said yet.. I can’t do to the temple yet, because you’re not.. I didn’t.. “ He almost couldn’t bring himself to say it. That happy dream of Claudia, walking with him arm in arm as her belly was swollen with child, and their own white haired son was on Vergil’s hip, that stupid _asinine_ fantasy, evaporated. His heart ached, and he wanted to chase it, but it was totally gone. 

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, but the wide ways her eyes betrayed her. “I didn’t know the first night. When I found out, it was after I started to know you, and I – ” Vergil moved away from her, but Claudia grabbed his coat, desperate still. “I’m sorry! Please, I’m so sorry!”

“I need to go,” he muttered, fighting the urge to cut her down. He didn’t want to, he realized, but the demon in him was raging, while his human heart was broken. “I need to finish my work here on Fortuna.”

“Vergil!” She cried, burying her face in his back, crying hard. “I’m sorry, please, believe me, I .. I didn’t want to hurt you, I only wanted a better life, but then I knew you! I started to know you.” She swallowed and Vergil took a deep breath. He had to will himself to leave, he had to leave this flat, these feelings. If he could, he’d cut his human heart out, if it hurt this much. “Our child could change the world, Vergil.”

His shoulders hunched and he pulled away from her, roughing. She staggered forward, still reaching for him. He looked over at him, face hard. 

“You know I’m right!” She almost wailed. “If my womb quickens, and I give you a son, then we’d not have to worry about _anything_ anymore! Not Sanctus, not anything! Or we.. we could go someplace else.. Someplace nice! On the mainland. Someplace nice, on the mainland. Together!”

Vergil turned away from her and started for the window, ignoring her as she collapsed into tears, head in hands, kneeling on the floor. As he pushed the window open, made to stand out onto the fire-escape outside, she sobbed, and called for him again. The agonized sound of her voice made him take pause. 

“Vergil!” Claudia sniffled, tried to compose herself, and tried hard to put it all into her next few words. They came out in a whisper, but they seemed to cut through the room like a knife. They hit Vergil like a ton of bricks, and they were just as painful. “I love you.”

Vergil took a few deep breaths, before pushing forward, desperate to get out of the apartment. He moved as a man possessed, thoughtless and in a daze. He was half-way out of Fortuna by the time he realized, he was walking in the opposite direction of the temple. He’d just .. go elsewhere for the information he sought. 

_She lied to me .. She used me .. She never actually loved me.. All of the things she said, all of the things she did, they were all empty.._

Later, Vergil would deny crying. It was less a full cry, and more Vergil finding a dark alley to duck into on the way out of Fortuna, leaning against the wall, driving the heels of his palms into his eyes, as he grit his teeth and told himself, _no, I am **not** crying._. He just wanted to get as far away from Fortuna as his legs would carry him. He made a promise to himself, he’d never return to Fortuna, either. Not unless he got the power he sought. Then, and only then, he’d return, to destroy the Order of the Sword, and remove any semblance of it. 

Juvenilely, Vergil wanted to go home. He wanted his mother.. Wasn’t that what she’d have been for, if she had been alive? To help her son through his first heartache? 

_Gods,_ Vergil swore, coming to the dock where the ferry would take him back to the mainland. _I swear to whatever gods there are.. One day, I’ll cut out this weakness in my chest. I’ll find out why and no one will ever do this to me again.. I’ll have the power that puts me above this, entirely. And I’d sooner die than step foot on this god-forsaken island.._

And Vergil kept his promise, to an extent. He didn’t return to Fortuna.. Not for almost twenty-three years, when he was running out of time, and when a white haired youth had something he wanted..


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil finally delivers on a promise..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the feels, all the feels, all the feels..

**25 years … After Fortuna …**

It was quiet here, now. Fortuna had changed, since the fall of the Order, and for the better at least. The life that Nero and Kyrie had carved out there was quiet, quaint, and respectable. Vergil thought about it, sitting on the front porch, slowly easing the bench-swing back and forth as he watched the sun start to sink beyond the far horizon. Dante’s voice was carrying, the younger twin boisterous and likely helping himself to seconds. Vergil had made the appearance just to fulfill an old promise he made to himself. 

The screen door opened and Nero came out, sighing as he did. Vergil didn’t look at him, and as time when on, he realized part of the reason why looking at his biological son brought him so much pain. True, Nero favored him in features. White hair, blue eyes, and same smile-line on the side of his mouth.. But Nero had Claudia’s upturned, kittenish nose, and when he smiled, and it actually reached his eyes, it looked like his mother from the cheeks up. 

Vergil glanced at him, then back to the sunset. Nero had his hands on his hips and a frown deep on his face. 

_Twenty-five years,_ Vergil pondered, as Nero stood, awkwardly. Apparently the boy was waiting to be fully acknowledged. That was fine with Vergil.. It gave him a moment longer to reminisce. He had been thinking about that time in Fortuna the entire evening. Dante had brought him there, said they were staying for dinner, and asked Vergil to finally keep the promise the elder made the younger in Hell. 

_”Tell the kid about his mom. For me.. It weighs on the kid.. He doesn’t know a damn thing about the woman..”_

Vergil had played and replayed the events on Fortuna from 25 years ago over and over in his mind that evening. He hadn’t gone in to eat with the little family Nero had put together. He just sat on the porch swing, and barely swaying as he people watched. Fortuna had changed. The Order had fallen, and it was quickly replaced with the more mainstream governance of the mainland. 

_She didn’t stay long enough to see it happen,_ he lamented, while Nero crossed his arms and waited. _Where did you go, Claudia? What happened, after your wish came true, your womb quickened with the child of a Son of Sparda, and you found that the Order still shunned you? Or, more realistically, you never told them, did you? You knew, in your heart, what would happen to the boy.._

“Dante said you wanted to talk to me?” Nero said, finally. His tone was petulant and blunt, and it seemed he was already short on patience. Vergil looked at him, then, face neutral. 

“Sit,” he said, shifting to give him space on the porch swing. “It’s a long story..”

“Give me the cliff-notes so I can do back inside,” Nero said, with a sigh. 

_The first twenty-five years of childhood are the hardest.._

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Vergil asked, meeting his son’s bluntness with his own. He looked at Nero then, though his expression held none of the usual coldness or malice. Nero seemed surprised by the accusation and he looked away first.

“I don’t really know you enough to like you or dislike you,” Nero countered. He didn’t like being backed into the corner. Vergil figured he got that from both parents. “You kind of dumped me at an orpha—”

“I left before your mother even knew you were conceived,” Vergil corrected him, bluntly. “And that’s part of what I’d like to talk to you about now, if you’re interested. If not, of course, I can take my leave and we’ll just continue sniping at each other from across the room.”

Nero, still scowling, plopped himself on the porch swing, sending it jerking slightly. Vergil’s face kept neutral, though his hand itched to slap him. 

_Nero’s petulance is actually God’s divine punishment for my own youth,_ Vergil thought, though he kept his mouth shut. Nero slumped in his seat, arms crossed.

“Well? What’d you want to talk about?”

Vergil took a deep breath and exhaled it before speaking.

“Maybe you should start by telling me what you know about her?” He began, hoping that Nero knew something, and perhaps things would be less awkward.

“The kids and adults at the orphanage said she was a whore,” Nero deadpanned. 

“Claudia was not a whore,” Vergil said, surprising himself with how easy the words came to him. Nero raised an eyebrow at him, and for a second, Vergil saw a crack in his armor. It occurred to him that this may have been the first time Nero had heard his mother’s name.

““Claudia?”” Nero repeated, one eyebrow raised.

“She’s your mother,” Vergil said, with a shrug. “She’s the only woman I knew .. in that way .. on Fortuna.”

“Can you be sure that another lady didn’t travel to Fortuna and dropped me off from someplace else?” Nero asked. 

“She’s the only woman I knew _in that way_ ,” Vergil repeated, firmer this time. Nero didn’t press that issue any further.

“Claudia,” he said, nodding. “Okay.. And you swear she wasn’t a whore?”

“Not in the least,” Vergil said. “No money exchanged hands. She was just a girl, and I was just a young man, and we made you.”

“Why did you leave her?” Nero asked, frowning. 

Vergil paused, thinking about the best way to say it. He thought if there even was a “best way” to say what he needed to say.

“We argued,” he said, after a moment. “I left to pursue my end goal. I had thought your mother would continue in hers.”

“What was her goal?”

“To find a better life for herself,” Vergil said, honestly. While other things, he’d bend the truth on, to protect Claudia’s honor and to shield Nero from any un-pleasantries. “She wanted to leave Fortuna, badly. She .. often spoke of finding someplace nice, on the mainland. Claudia told me her parents died when she was very young. All she wanted was to find someplace nice.”

“And you didn’t think to take her with you?” Nero pressed.

“No,” Vergil said, honestly again. “We had fought and we went our separate ways.” 

“So you had no idea I was born?”

“No.”

“And you have no idea why she’d drop me off at the orphanage?”

“No, that especially confuses me,” Vergil admitted. Nero seemed to sober, and the anger gave way to a deep, but calm sadness. 

“I know she didn’t name me,” he admitted. “They called me “Nero” because that was, like.. the color of the blanket.” 

Vergil and Nero sat in awkward silence for a moment. 

“.. Good thing the blanket wasn’t pink?” Vergil offered, voice soft. 

Nero gave him a look, and Vergil shrugged. 

Nero laughed. It was a sound Vergil wasn’t used to. He rubbed his face, leaned back in the swing and sighed. Nero then looked back at his father. 

“Did you love her?” He asked, finally. Vergil couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“She loved me,” he said, after a long pause. “She told me as much. But we were children, ourselves, practically. We didn’t know what love was.. “ Nero leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was looking straight forward. 

“Tell me more about her,” he said, softly. Vergil took another deep breath.

“She had red hair. And brown eyes. She was funny.. And very gentle,” Vergil said, wondering what else he could plausibly say about her. Nero nodded, in silence. “ .. You take after her, a little. Mostly the nose.” Nero rubbed his face and Vergil realized his eyes were welling. “I’m sorry.” Vergil went to stand, shifting the porch swing. “I’ve upset you. I’ll go.”

“You’re such shit at this,” Nero said, voice cracking as he half-laughed. Nero rubbed his eyes with the back of his fist. “If someone is crying, and you care about them, you don’t just .. AUTOMATICALLY run, okay? Would it kill you to, like .. Fucking hug me or something?”

_If someone is crying, and you care about them, you don’t just automatically run.._

Vergil swallowed hard.

Claudia, collapsed on the floor of her flat, reaching for him as he left her, crying. That scene played itself over in his head, until he moved forward and gave Nero what started as the most awkward hug ever. Nero had seized up, perhaps surprised that Vergil would actually hug him. To be fair, Vergil wasn’t good at hugging. He wasn’t a hugger. Dante said it was like squeezing a corpse. But in this case, he tried. Vergil hugged Nero as best as he could, as best as he knew how. 

Nero relaxed and Vergil was surprised he actually hugged back. 

.. Wherever Claudia was, if she was still alive, Vergil only hoped that she had finally found that idyllic “someplace nice on the mainland” she had been looking for ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing? I had wanted to write my complex headcanon about Nero's conception and Vergil's difficulty with intimacy being tied to this youthful "betrayal," and this monstrosity came forth.   
> As always, please comment any requests or anything at all! I am also on tumblr at omniverbosity.tumblr.com.


End file.
